Dallas In Wonderland
by Lucky the Soldier
Summary: You've all seen the movie or read the book. It's the story of a little girl and her wild imagination- Dallas Winston Style. Need I say more?
1. Down the Rabbit Hole Part I

Warning! Warning: This is a total crack!fic. I'm only doing this until I can figure out where to go with So random. My file for a Greaser's Golden Rules got erased and I can't remember what happened next. GRRRR! I was so devastated. SO sorry for the inconvenience. I hope you guys enjoy this.

Disclaimer: I do not own _The Outsiders_ or _Alice in Wonderland_

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><p>Part I<p>

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><p>Chapter 1<p>

**Down the Rabbit Hole**

Dallas was starting to get tired of sitting by Johnny and Ponyboy on the couch, and of not doing anything; a couple of times he had peered into the book the youngest Curtis was reading, _Gone With the Wind_, it had no cars or broads in it, "and what the hell is the point of a book," thought Dallas, "without cars or broads?"

So he was mulling over, in his own mind (as best as he could, it was a hot July day that made him feel very tired and agitated), whether the pleasure of making socs cry would be worth the trouble of getting off his duff and hunting for some action, when our of nowhere a White Rabbit with pink eyes ran past him.

There was nothing really _very_ incredible in that; nor did Dallas think it so _very_ much unusual to hear the Rabbit say to itself "Oh crap! Oh crap! I shall be screwed!" (when he thought about it again, it occurred to him that he definitely should have wondered about this, but it seemed normal at the time); but, when the Rabbit actually _took a watch out of its leatherjacket-pocket,_ and looked at it, and then hurried on, Dallas started to his feet, for he had an epiphany that he'd never seen a rabbit sportin' a leatherjacket, or a watch to take out of it, and, burning with curiosity, he ran out the house and across the lot after it, and was just in time to see it plop down a large rabbit-hole under the fence.

Soon Dallas to go down after it, never once considering how in the world he was to get out again.

The rabbit-hole went straight on like a long pipe for some way, and then dipped suddenly down, so quick that Dallas didn't get the chance to stop himself before he found herself falling down what seemed to be a very deep well.

It was either really really deep, or he fell really really slowly, cause he had plenty of time as he went down to glance and look around, pondering "Damn it. Sodapop put bleach in the cake mix. Again." First, he tried to look down and make out what he was coming to, but it was too freaking dark: then he looked at the sides of the well, and noticed that they were filled with cupboards and bookshelves: It was here and there that he saw maps and pictures that hung upon pegs. He took down a bottle from one of the shelves as he passed: it was labeled "PEPSI-COLA," but to his grand disappointment it was empty: he didn't want to drop the bottle, _I'd probably knock someone out_, so he managed to put it into one of the cupboards as she fell past it.

Well Glory!" Dallas thought to himself. "After I get out of this,(God I hope I get out of this ) I'll be able to handle anything! My old man! The fuzz! Hell even Two-Bit's lame jokes." (No seriously have you ever heard one of his jokes.)

Down, down, down. Would this thing ever end? "_Man, I wonder how far I've fallen_?" he said aloud. "_Shoot I'm probably near the center of the freaking earth. Hold up: that would be four thousand miles down, I think—_" (for, you see, Dallas had learnt several things of this sort, courtesy of Ponyboy Curtis. "_—yep, that sounds right—but then I wonder what Latitude or Lo—Aw who gives a shit?_" (Dallas really didn't give a shit he just wanted some Pepsi-Cola.)

And so he began again. "_I wonder if I'll end up in China or maybe Disney World! That'd be real tuff. Maybe I'll end up in Vegas, make some loot, and buy an Impala. Oh crap… What if I fall of the freaking planet? I'm so dead_." (he was pretty happy that none of the gang was there listening, gotta keep the rep) "—_Well better start settling things. Please, God, I know I've done some um, bad things and I'm a worthless scumbag and I'm probably gonna die but can you do one last thing for me? Would you look out for the guys, especially Johnnycakes?_" (and he tried to ignore the fact that he was plummeting to his doom as he prayed—imagine that. Do you think you could pull that off?) "_So yeah! You should definitely grant me this last thing if you know what's good for ya…um Sir_."

Down, down, down. There was nothing else to do, so Dallas started talking to himself again. *cough* Psychotic… "_I'm probably gonna miss that party tonight!_" (The party was at Buck's.) "_Ah, what am I worried about. They'll cancel. It ain't a party without Dallas Winston. Damn! I wish __**someone**__ was down here with me. Superman, Two-Bit, Stevie? Pony or Johnnycakes? Sod—O hell no! It's his fault I'm here in the first place._" And here Dallas began to real sleepy, and went on saying to himself, in a dreamy sort of way, "_Rearrange Soda's face..Rearrange Soda's face…_" and sometimes "_How do you mistake bleach for water_?", for, you see, as he couldn't answer that question, it didn't really matter anymore, cause he 'd given up on getting out of here. He felt that he was dozing off, and started dreaming that she was walking hand in hand with Cherry Valence, and was saying to her, in a heated voice, "Has anyone ever told you how fine yo—?", when suddenly, thump! thump! down he came upon a pile of rocks and sticks, at least he'd stop falling.


	2. Down the Rabbit Hole Part II

WOW! I didn't expect anybody to read this at all. Thank you to all who read and reviewed! Here is parte dos.

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><p>Part II<p>

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><p>Chapter 2<p>

**Down the Rabbit Hole**

Dallas wasn't hurt at all, and hopped onto his feet instantly: he glanced up, but it was pitch black overhead: ahead of him was another long passage, and the White Rabbit was still in sight, racing down it. There wasn't a moment to lose: away went Dallas like the wind, and he arrived just in time to hear it say, as it turned a corner, "Oh #%! how late it's getting!" He was close behind it when he turned the corner, but the Rabbit was no longer in sight: he found himself in a long, low hall, which was lit by a row of chandeliers hanging down from the roof.

There were doors all round the hall, but all of which were locked; and when Dallas had been all the way down one side and up the other, trying every door, he walked down the hall pissed off (albeit a little depressed), wondering how the heck he was going to get out of this joint.

It was then that he came upon a little three-legged table, made of diamond: there was nothing on it but an itsy bitsy teeny weeny golden key, and Dallas' first idea was that this could actually go to one of the doors in the hall; but, damn! Either the locks were too freakin big, or the key was too freakin small, but the point is, it would not open **any** of them. However, on the second try, he saw a low curtain he'd not noticed before, and behind it was a little door about a foot high: he tried the little golden key in the lock, and the darn thing actually fit!

Dallas opened the door and realized that it led into a small passage, not much bigger than a rat-hole: he knelt down and looked down the passage into the loveliest collection of food and drink you ever saw. Pie, Smores, Turkey, Dressing, Pie, Beer, Coca Cola, Pepsi-Cola, Pie, Pie, Pie. He longed to get out of that dark hall, and wander about among those patches of bright donuts and those cool bottles of soda, but he couldn't even get his head out of the doorway; "Even if I got my head through," thought poor Dallas, "the rest of me would still be stuck. Crap, I guess smaller is better! Karma is a bitch." For, you see, so long ago, before he ended up down here, Dallas and Ponyboy once had a conversation that went on like so:

"_Bigger is not always better."_

"_Yeah it is. I can drive wherever I want, drink whatever I want, go wherever I want, and everyone thinks I'm grown."_

There seemed to be no point in waiting by the mini door, so he went back to the table, half hoping he could find another key on it, or maybe a book _Getting the Hell Out of Here For Dummies_: this time he found a little bottle on it ("I did not see that before," said Dallas), and tied round the neck of the bottle was a little label, with the words "**DRINK ME**" printed in bold lettering.

It was all very nice to say "Drink me," but Dallas had no intention of doing that yet. " Hell no, I'll look first," he said, "For all I know it could be poison or more bleach"; he was already lost, trapped probably and worse, all because he got hungry and his sweet tooth got the better of him.

But, this bottle didn't look like it had poison in it. It didn't smell like poison. His hand didn't disintegrate when he dipped his finder into the bottle. And that was good enough for Dallas so chose to taste it, and, what do you know it didn't taste so bad (it had, in fact, a sort of mixed flavour of chocolate cake, ice cream, apple pie, fried chicken, caramel, and cinnamon rolls), he finished it pretty fast.

"Huh… I feel all tingly now." said Dallas. "Sugar Rush!"

Sugar rush it was not: he was now only ten inches height, though he didn't mine because his first thought was _Ha ha! Time to go score me some donuts!_ First, however, he waited for a few minutes to see if he would get any smaller: he got a little anxious; "that would suck if I stayed like this," said Dallas to himself, "or got so small I disappeared or something." He tried to imagine that and it wasn't a very comforting idea.

After a while, finding that nothing more happened, Dallas said "Screw this." He decided on going into the buffet at once; but, alas for poor Dallas! When he got to the door, he accidentally forgot the little golden key, and when he went back to the table for it, he was unable to reach it: he could see multiple images of it quite plainly through the diamond, and he tried his best to climb up one of the legs of the table, but it was too slick; and when he had got tired of trying, the poor little thing sat down and started cussing up a storm.

"WHAT THE FUCK! Are you kidding me I left the damn key on the table. How the hell did that even happen? Better yet, how the hell did I end up in this shit-hole! I mean I want to fucking punch babies right now. Is this your idea of fun?" he screamed to the heavens or whomever could hear him "cause I'm not having fun. SODAPOP CURTIS if I make it out of this I am going to shank you in the your sleep. YA HEAR ME? DAMN IT!" He took a deep breath before counting to ten.

"Whoo! Almost lost my cool there" said Dallas to himself rather sharply. "I just gotta stay calm. Stay calm, and I'll be out of here in no time. Patience is vice..er virtue..whatever." He was generally given very good advice (though he usually blew it off or misinterpreted it). Soon his eye fell on a little glass box that was lying under the table: he opened it, and found in it a very small cookie, on which the words "BITE ME" were beautifully marked in currants. " Ain't that the truth. Well, I'll eat it," said Dallas, "maybe I'll grow or something, I can reach the key; and if it makes me grow smaller, I'll crawl under the freakin door: so either way I'm getting my donuts, and I don't care which happens!"

He ate a little bit, and said anxiously to himself "Well? Did it work?", pressing his hand on the top of his head to feel which way it was growing; and he was real surprised to find that he remained the same size. To be sure, this is what usually happens when one eats cake; but Dallas had got so much into the way of expecting nothing but crazy things to happen, that it seemed quite boring and lame for life to go on in the common way.

So he set to work, and very soon finished off the cookie.


	3. The Pool of Tears I

I felt like this was particular chapter was going to take me forever to write. This story is harder to write than you think. On the other hand it's so much fun putting in Dally's style. **Bite ME** cookies to all who continue reading! :p

Warning: Bi-Polar Dally! XD

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><p>"Hot Damn!" cried Dallas "Now I'm growing like a freakin tree! Can't even see my feet!" (for when he looked down at his feet, they seemed to be almost out of sight, they were getting so far off). "It's not like I'll be able to bend down without toppling over. I'll have to hire someone to put on my shoes," thought Dallas, "or go all hippie. Naa, I'll deal with it. "<p>

And he went on planning to himself how he would manage it. "Have the mailman send me some socks," he thought; "Ha Ha. That'd be so dumb."

_Dally's Right Foot, Esq._

_Carpet, near the Fender,_

_(Love, Dally)._

"Man, now I sound like a psychopath."

Just at this moment his head struck against the roof of the hall _Fuck!_: in fact he was about ten feet high, and he at once took up the little golden key and darted towards the buffet door. Poor Dallas! It was as much as he could do, lying down on one side, to look through into the buffet with one eye; but to get through was more hopeless than ever: he sat down and began to cry tears of frustration.

"This is a damn shame," said Dallas, "a big old greaser like me," (he might well say this), "crying like a broad!" He couldn't help it though. One would cry too with all the crap that he has been through, missing out on all that food. He went on all the same, shedding bushels of tears, until there was a large pool all round him, about four inches deep, and reaching a little ways down the hall.

After a time He heard a little pitter pattering of feet somewhere in the distance, and he hastily dried his eyes to see what was coming. It was the White Rabbit coming back, splendidly dressed kind of like a pimp, with a pair of white kid-gloves in one hand and a large cane in the other, leopard- print hat atop his head: he came trotting along in a great hurry, muttering to himself, as he came, "Oh #$! The Duchess, the Duchess! Oh! She'll kill me if I keep her waiting"—Dallas felt so freakin desperate that he was ready to ask help of any one if it meant solving his predicament: so, when the Rabbit came near him, he began, in a rough but, calm voice, "Hey Bugs!" The Rabbit started violently, dropped the white kid-gloves and the cane, and skurried away into the darkness as fast as he could go.

Dallas took up the cane and gloves, and, as the hall was very hot,

He stripped off his jacket as he talked. "Unbelievable! How did everything get so messed up? Everything was fine and dandy yesterday. Maybe I'm asleep or something? Let me think: _Nope_ I woke up this and felt fine…I think. But then I ate some of that cake that Soda made. I remember I was the first to eat it. Then I felt funny afterward. Tasted like crap, but I didn't wanna say nothing and… **Oh shit, I'm dead!** But if I'm dead, the next question is 'Where in the hell am I?' Ah, _that's_ the true question!" And he began thinking over all the possible places that he could be.

"I'm sure I'm not in Heaven," he said, "well at least…not my idea of Heaven. Did I even get into Heaven? I hope so. Wait I really hope I didn't end up where I think. I mean I wasn't a total dirtbag. Sure I've gotten into fights, sold some _items_, stole a few cars, beat a few socs. And on top of all THAT…I've only been to jail" and here he began to count on his finger "eight, ni—Not Important. Oh crap, I'm in Hell! Wait, wait, wait. Let me see: It's freakin hot down here, but there's no fire. That light at the end of the tunnel is probably a good sign. Or an oncoming train… I'm the only one down here—shit! Okay weren't there some rules or something like that you had to follow. Trying to remember what they were The Four Commandments or something—no, _that's_ all wrong, I just know it! There's gotta be more! I'll try to say them all that way I'll know _'Thou shalt not—',"_ and he crossed his hands across his chest, and began to repeat them, but he was uncertain to whether he was saying them right:—

_Thou shalt not steal_

_Thou shalt not lie_

_Thou shalt not_

"Holy crap!" said poor Dallas, and his eyes filled with tears again as he went on, " I really am in Hell after all, and I have to spend all of eternity down here alone, I'm never going to see the guys again. I don't even get a second chance at life. Why did it have to be me? If anything Soda should be down here he's the one who ganked me in the first place! Hmm…maybe I shouldn't have eaten that cake. I guess I can't really blame him. Alright I've made up my mind: if I'm in Hell, I'll stay down here! No point in whining about it and screaming. 'GET ME THE HELL OUT OF HERE!' ( ironic) who knows maybe if I handle this like this an adult the big man'll set me—Aw who am I kidding!" cried Dallas, dropping to his knees in defeat, "If he would go through all the trouble of getting me out of here, he wouldn't have sent me here in the first place!"

As he said this his gaze fell upon his hands, and was surprised to see that he had actually put on one of the Rabbit Pimp's little white kid-gloves while he was losing it. "How _did I even do that_?" he thought. "Must be shrinking again." He got up and went to the table to measure himself by it, and found that, by guestimating, he was now about two feet high, and shrinking pretty fast: he soon found out that the cause of it was the cane he was holding, and he dropped it instantly, just in time to save himself from shrinking away altogether.

"Ho ho! That could have been so bad." said Dallas, still a little freaked out at the sudden change, but happy to find that he hadn't disappeared. That single moment drew him out of his depression and brought on a bout of sudden acceptance "And now for hell's kitchen!" And he ran with all speed back to the little door; but, alas! the little door was shut again, and the little golden key was lying on the glass table as before, "and now I'm back in shits," thought the poor greaser, "I've never been this small. This can only end badly."

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><p>Lol! What did you think? Is Dally really in hell or is he just being delusional? Review your answers :p<p> 


	4. The Pool of Tears II

That last chapter was soo bad! But delusional Dally was so hilarious. Oh my gosh! I hope you guys enjoy reading this story as much as I enjoy writing it.

Chapter 4

The Pool of Tears II

As he said these words his foot had slipped, and in another moment, splash! He was up to his chin in salt-water. His first thought was that he fell into the ocean or something, "all I gotta do is find a boat and paddle my way out of here." he said to himself. (Dallas had once gone on a camping trip and happened so to be very familiar with canoeing and such) Nevertheless, he soon discovered that he was in the pool of tears which he had wept when he was ten feet high.

"Why did I have to start bawling?" said Dallas, as he swam around, trying to find his way out. "I guess this is where the 'eternal punishment' begins, I guess I'm supposed to die _again_, drown in my own fucking tears. What a messed up way to go! I shouldn't be surprised though. Everything that's happened today has been messed up. Hell I died because I ate cake. "

Just then he heard something splashing about in the pool a little way off, and he swam closer to see what it could be: at first he thought it must be a seal or freakin hippo, but then he remembered how small he actually was, and he realized that it was only a mouse, that had fell in like him.

"Wouldn't surprise me if the thing could actually talk," thought Dallas, "this whole day I've been seeing the impossible, so what more could possibly happen." So he began: "So um, Mouse, you know how to get out of here? I'm sick of swimming around in here, Ay Mouse!" (There hadn't been a response yet, so Dallas did the most logical thing: the most efficient and most bothersome way to get one to speak. "Mickey, Mickey, Mickey, Mickey, Mickay Mickay, Mickay, Mickay, Mick, Mick, Mick, Mick, Mouse, Mouse, Mouse, MOUSE!" The mouse looked at him rather curiously, and seemed to him to wink with one of its beady little eyes, but it said nothing.

"Crap, what if it doesn't speak English?" thought Dallas. "I bet it's Spanish or something." (Dallas had no exact notion as to how to speak the language, he maintains a C+ in Spanish class, but he did know the basics) So he began again: "Miras un GATO!" he shouted pointing behind the creature. The Mouse gave a sudden leap out of the water, and seemed to shake all over in fear while Dallas laughed aloud at his sick joke. "I'm just screwing with you." Dallas blurted out still trying to catch his breath; the poor animal was probably going to have a coronary. "You probably don't like cats right?"

"Not like cats!" cried the Mouse in a shrill, passionate voice. "Would _you_ like cats, if you were me?"

"I guess not," said Dallas calmly thinking for a moment. In a way mice and cats were a lot like greasers and socs: "take it easy. Cats ain't so bad. They're only bigger than you, and they've got these claws that are like fucking knives. And they lick themselves," Dallas went on, disgusting himself in the process, he shuddered for moment after that last comment, "and they piss everywhere,—and they're giant fluff balls—did I mention they were big on catching mice—oh, My Bad!" replied Dallas again, for this time the Mouse was bristling all over. "I'm gonna stop talking now."

"You, talk!" cried the Mouse, who was trembling down to the end of its tail. "As if _I_ would talk on such a subject! Our family has _always _hated cats: nasty, low, vulgar things! Don't let me hear the name again!"

"Fine!" Dallas growled out, resisting the urge to scream _CAT!_ "Well, you like dogs don't ya?" The Mouse did not answer, so Dallas went on rambling: "There was this ugly puppy, near our house in York. That was a tuff puppy! It was a mutt, you know, kind of like a tramp, it always showed up at my house for food! And it would fetch everything, and it would eat all kinds of crap—I can't remember half the shit it ate when I was a kid— my socks, a tennis ball, a baseball, my favorite shoe! Mangy bastard…The only thing it was good for was killing rats and—oh damn!" cried Dallas aggregately. "I think I just pissed this thing off again." For the Mouse was swimming away from him as hard as it could go, and making quite a commotion in the pool as it went.

So he called softly after it, "Mouse! Come on back, and I'll keep my trap shut about cats and dogs, if you don't like them!" When the Mouse heard this, it turned round and swam slowly back to him: its face was quite pale, and it said, in a low trembling voice, "Let's swim to the shore, and then I'll tell you my history, and you'll understand why it is I hate cats and dogs."

It was high time to go, the pool was starting to get crowded with the birds and animals that had fallen into it: there was a Duck and a Dodo, a Lory and an Eaglet, and several other messed up creatures. Dallas began, leading the party to the shore.


	5. A Caucus Race and a Long Tale Part I

Wow it's been so long since I have worked on this story. Sorry guys, I'm in like a million classes and I've been trying to get all of my work done. Plus I have an ACT this week (completely forgot about that). Anyway… hopefully this makes up for my absence!

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><p>Disclaimer: I do not own <em>The Outsiders<em> or _Alice in Wonderland_

Chapter 5

The Caucus Race and a Long Tale I

They were indeed a strange-looking party that gathered on the bank—the birds with ruffled feathers, the animals with their fur clinging close to them, and all sopping wet, agitated, and uncomfortable.

The first question of course was, how to get dry again: they had a long discussion about this, and after a few minutes it seemed pretty normal to Dallas to find himself talking with them, as if he had known them forever. Indeed, he had an incredibly long argument with the Lory, who eventually got all pissy, and would only say "I'm older than you, therefore I'm smarter." And this Dallas would not allow, without knowing how old it was, and, as the Lory positively refused to tell its age, there was no more to be said.

At last the Mouse, who seemed to be a person of some kind of authority amongst them, called out "Cop a squat, all of you, and listen up! _I'll_ soon make you dry enough!" They all sat down at once, in a large ring, with the Mouse in the middle. Dallas kept his eyes focused on it, for he felt sure he would catch pneumonia if he did not get dry very soon. Then he would be forced to beat it's ass, and Dallas had no desire to do that…yet.

"Ahem!" said the Mouse with an important air. "Are you all ready? This is the driest thing I know. Quiet all round, if you please! 'William the Conqueror, whose cause was favoured by the pope, was soon offered to by the English, who wanted leaders, and had been of late much accustomed to usurpation and conquest. Edwin and Morcar, the earls of Mercia and Northumbria—' "

"Ugh!" said the Lory, full of disgust.

"I beg your pardon!" said the Mouse, frowning, but very politely. "Did you speak?"

"Not I!" said the Lory, hastily.

"I thought you did," said the Mouse. "I proceed. 'Edwin and Morcar, the earls of Mercia and Northumbria, declared for him; and even Stigand, the patriotic archbishop of Canterbury, found it advisable—' "

"Found _what?_ " said the Duck.

"Found _it,_" the Mouse replied rather harshly: "I know that you know what 'it' means."

"I know what 'it' means well enough, when _I_ find a thing," said the Duck: "it's generally a frog, or a worm. The question is, _what_ did the archbishop find?"

The Mouse did not notice this question, but hurriedly went on, " '—found it advisable to go with Edgar Atheling to meet William and offer him the crown. William's conduct at first was moderate. But the insolence of his Normans—' How are you getting on now, my dear?" it continued, turning to Dallas as it spoke.

"How's it going? While you freaks are sitting over there yapping, I'm freezing over here," said Dallas in an agitated tone: "I mean c'mon! Do I look dry to you?."

"In that case," said the Dodo solemnly, rising to its feet, "I move that the meeting adjourn, for the immediate adoption of more energetic remedies—"

"Speak English!" said the Eaglet. "I don't know the meaning of half those long words, and, what's more, I don't believe you do either!" And the Eaglet bent down its head to hide a smile: some of the other birds tittered audibly.

"What I was going to say," said the Dodo in an offended tone, "was, that the best thing to get us dry would be a Caucus race."

"What- the- fuck _is_ a Caucus-race?" said Dallas; not that he cared, but the Dodo had paused almost like it thought that _somebody_ ought to speak, and no one else seemed inclined to say anything.

"Why," said the Dodo, "the best way to explain it is to do it." (And, as you might like to try the thing yourself, some winter-day, I shall explain how the Dodo managed it.)

First it marked out a race-course, in a sort of hexagon, ("the exact shape doesn't matter," it said,) and then all the party were placed along the course, here and there. There was no "On your mark, get set…GO!", but they began running when they liked, and left off when they liked, so that it was not easy to know when the race was over. However, when they had been running half an hour or so, and were quite dry again, the Dodo suddenly called out "The race is over!", and they all crowded round it, panting, and asking "But who has won?"

This question the Dodo could not answer without a great deal of thought, and it stood for a long time with one finger pressed upon its forehead (the position in which you usually see Shakespeare, in the pictures of him), while the rest waited in silence. At last the Dodo said "_Everybody_ has won, and _all _must have prizes."

"But who is to give the prizes?" quite a chorus of voices asked.

"Why, _he,_ of course," said the Dodo, pointing to Dallas with one finger; and the whole party at once crowded round him, calling out, in a confused way, "Prizes! Prizes!"

Dallas had no idea what to do, but to amuse them, he put his hand in his pocket, and pulled out a bag of peanuts (it was from when he went to Dairy Queen, so very long ago), and handed them round as prizes. There was exactly one a-piece, all round.

"But he must have a prize himself, you know," said the Mouse.

"Of course," the Dodo replied very gravely. "What else have you got in your pocket?" it went on, turning to Dallas.

"My last cancer stick," said Dallas disappointedly.

"Hand it over here," said the Dodo.

_You smoke this thing, I'll make sure you go extinct._ Dallas thought.

Then they all crowded round him once more, while the Dodo solemnly presented the thimble, saying "We beg your acceptance of this elegant cancer stick"; and, when it had finished this short speech, they all cheered.

Dallas thought that they all had been doing coke, but they all looked so grave that all he could do was stand back in disbelief; and, as he could not think of anything to say, he simply bowed, and took the cigarette, looking as solemn as he could.

The next thing was to eat the nuts: this caused some noise and confusion, as the large birds complained that they could not taste theirs, and the small ones choked and had to be patted on the back. However, it was over at last, and they sat down again in a ring, and begged the Mouse to tell them something more.

"Alright Rodent, You were going on about your history or something, so its story time," At the creatures confused stare, he added, "You know? Why you hate _cats_ and _dogs_," he stressed out, half-smirking.

"Mine is a long and a sad tale!" said the Mouse, turning to Dallas, who rolled his eyes.

"It's a long tail alright," said Dallas, looking down with wonder at the Mouse's tail _Damn! That thing is lo-ong_; "but it can't be that bad, I mean compared to my fucked up life." And he kept on puzzling about it while the Mouse was speaking, so that his idea of the tale was something like this:—

"Fury said to

A mouse, That

he met in the

house, Let

us both go

To law: I

will prose-

cute you—

Come, I'll

take no de-

nial: We blah

blah blah

blah blah blah...

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><p>What did you think. Huh? Did you like, did you like? REVIEW! Please? :p<p> 


	6. A Caucus Race and a Long Tale Part II

Guess who's back? You all probably thought I was dead or something. Nope, I didn't forget, just been real busy. But seeing as I have got some free time, with summer vacation and all, it's time to pursue my writing career, again. Thank you to those who haven't forgotten me. Remember _Patience is vice…virtue…whatever._

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><p>Disclaimer: I don't own <em>The Outsiders<em> or _Alice in Wonderland_

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><p>Chapter 6<p>

**A Caucus Race and a Long Tale II**

"You are not attending!" said the Mouse to Dallas, severely. "What are you thinking of?"

"Hey," said Dallas very humbly: "you got to like the fifth bend or something, right?"

"I had _not!_" cried the Mouse, sharply and very angrily.

"A knot!" said Dallas, ready to make himself useful, anything that would get him the hell out of there, and looking shadily about him. "You know, I could probably fix that!"

"I shall do nothing of the sort," said the Mouse, getting up and walking away. "You insult me by talking such nonsense!"

"C'mon! I didn't mean it like that," screamed poor Dallas. "Glory, are you fucking bipolar or something?"

The Mouse only growled in response.

"Just come back and finish the story, I'll keep my trap shut!" Dallas called after it. And the others all joined in the chorus "Yes, please do!" But the Mouse just shook its head impatiently (*gasp* that mo-fo just broke Dally's golden rule), and walked a little quicker.

"What a pity it wouldn't stay!" sighed the Lory, as soon as it was quite out of sight. And an old Crab took the liberty of saying to her daughter "Ah, my dear! Let this be a lesson to you never, ever to lose _your_ temper!" "Aw, screw you Ma!" said the young Crab, a little snappishly. "You're enough to try the patience of an oyster!"

"I wish Darry was here, _he'd_ know what to do!" said Dallas aloud, addressing nobody in particular. _"I betcha he could get it back_!"

"And who is Darry, if I might venture to ask the question?" said the Lory.

Dallas replied proudly, for he had the utmost respect for the oldest Curtis brother: "Darry's the leader of our gang. He's Superman. And he ain't so bad in rumbles either, fucking blows your mind! And oh, I wish you could see him taking out socs! Why, he'd take one out the same as a cat would a bird!"

This speech caused a remarkable sensation among the party. Some of the birds hurried off at once: one old Magpie began wrapping itself up very carefully, remarking "I really must be getting home: this night-air doesn't suit my throat!" And a Canary called out in a trembling voice, to its children, "Come away, my darlings! It's high time you were all in bed!" On various pretexts they all moved off, and Dallas was soon left alone.

"Damn it!" he said to herself in an aggravated tone. "You know what? Fine. Take off! You freaks are too damn sensitive anyways. I don't need you." And here poor Dallas collapsed down to the ground again, for he felt kind of low-spirited. _I'm never gonna get out of here anyway. _In a little while, however, he again heard a little pattering of footsteps in the distance, and he looked up curiously, half hoping that the Mouse had changed his mind, and was coming back to finish his story.

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><p>Yeah I know it was pretty short, but don't worry their will be much more to come my friends. :P<p> 


	7. The Rabbit Sends in a Little Bill I

Hey Ya'll! It feels to good have some free time to work on all my fanfics. Now I can torture Dally 24/7! Hooray! Sorry that last chapter sucked. I hope that this one's better!

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><p>Disclaimer: I don't own The Outsiders or Alice In Wonderland (but if I did *evil laugh*)<p>

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><p>Chapter 7<p>

The Rabbit Sends in a Little Bill I

It was the White Rabbit, marching slowly back again, and looking cautiously about as it went, as if it had lost something; and he heard it muttering to itself, "The Duchess! The Duchess! Oh my freaking paws! Oh my chucks and whiskers! She'll get me executed, as sure as dogs are dogs! Where _can_ I have dropped them, I wonder?" Dallas guessed in a moment that it was looking for the leopard-print hat and the pair of white kid-gloves, and he unconsciously began hunting about for them, but they were nowhere to be seen—everything seemed to have changed since his swim in the pool; and the great hall, with the glass table and the little door, had vanished completely.

Very soon the Rabbit noticed Dallas, as he went hunting about, and called out to him, in an dangerous tone, "Why, Douglas Dan, what _are_ you doing out here? Run home this moment, and fetch me a pair of gloves and a hat! Quick, now!" And Dallas frowned for a second about to tell this creature off without trying to explain the mistake that it had made. It was then that he realized something and decided to play along.

"Sure thing your furriness." And took off.

"He took me for his fucking servant," he said to herself as he ran. "Well little guy's gonna get one hell of a surprise when he finds out who I am! But I'd better take him his hat and gloves—that is, IF I can find them." As he said this, he came upon a nice decked out little house, on the door of which was a bright bronze plate with the name "G. RABBIT" engraved upon it. He went in without knocking, and raced upstairs, as to not come in contact with the real Douglas Dan, and be turned out of the house before she had found the fan and gloves.

"Well if this isn't weird I don't know what is," Dallas said to himself, "Going messages for a damn rabbit! I suppose Mickey Mouse'll be sending me on messages next!" And for a while he began fancying the sort of thing that would happen.

By this time he had found his way into a tidy little room with a table in the window, and on it (as he had hoped) a fan and two or three pairs of tiny white kid-gloves: he took up the leopard-print hat and a pair of the gloves, and was just going to leave the room, when his eye fell upon a little bottle that stood near the looking-glass. _Not THIS shit again! _There was no label this time with the words "DRINK ME," but nevertheless he uncorked it and put it to his lips. "I know _something_'s about to go down," he said to himself, "whenever I eat anything or drink anything: so I'll see what the hell this bottle does. I do hope it'll make me grow again, because if I'm stuck as midget for another minute, I'm going to lose it!"

It did so indeed, and much sooner than Dallas had expected: he hadn't even drunken half the bottle, and he found his head pressing against the ceiling, and had to stoop to save his neck from being broken. He hastily put down the bottle, saying to himself "Okay! Okay! That's enough—Good Glory!—I can't even get out the fucking door—I wish I hadn't drank so much! Why the hell did I drink so much?"

Alas! It was too late to wish that! He went on growing, and growing, and very soon had to kneel down on the floor: in another minute there was not even room for this, and he tried the effect of lying down with one elbow against the door, and the other arm curled round his head. Still he went on growing, and, as a last resource, he threw one arm out of the window, and shot one foot up the chimney, and had an epiphany "Man, I did all I could. What happens, happens."

Luckily for Dallas, the little magic bottle had reached its ultimate effect, and he grew no larger: still it was crazy uncomfortable, and, as there seemed to be no sort of chance of him ever exiting the room again, no wonder he was so pissed.

"Life was so much better back home," thought poor Dallas, "when nobody wasn't always growing Big and Small, and being bitched at by mice and rabbits. I wish I hadn't jumped down that stupid rabbit-hole—and yet—and yet—it's like a mystery, you know, this…whatever the hell is happening to me! I do wonder what's gonna happen to me! Whenever I listened to Pony reading those stories, I always thought, _There's no way in hell that can happen_, and now here I am in the middle of one! They're gonna write books about this, books about ME! And when I grow up I'll be the richest greaser on the whole East Side—but I'm grown up now," he added in a sorrowful tone: "well there's no room to grow up any more _here._"

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><p>Oh no...Dally falling into a really dark depression...again. You know what would make him happy? Lots of reviews! And cancer sticks! :p<p> 


	8. The Rabbit Sends in a Little Bill II

Hey guys, please don't shank me! I haven't dropped off the face of the Earth! I've just had so much stuff going on this summer I haven't been able to update. But I assure we will make it to the end of this story. Its too funny to give up and me and Dally have bonded!

Disclaimer: You know the drill. I don't own either of these great works. :P

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><p>Chapter 8<p>

**The Rabbit Sends in a Little Bill II**

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><p>"But wait…," thought Dallas, "am I gonna get any older than I already am? That'd be tuff—I'd be immortal or something—but then—I'd never be able to do things legally, but it's not like <em>that<em> mattered before_!_ "

"Oh man!" he answered himself. "How in the hell would I get anything done in here? There's hardly any freaking room for myself!"

And so he went on, taking first one side and then the other, and making quite a conversation of it altogether; but after a few minutes he heard a voice from outside, and he paused to listen.

"Douglas Dan! Douglas Dan!" said the voice. "Fetch me my gloves this moment!" Then came the faint pattering of feet upon the stairs. Dallas knew it was the Rabbit coming to look for him, and he struggled and made to leave till he shook the house, quite forgetting that he was now about a million times as large as the Rabbit, and quite frankly had no reason to hide from it.

Presently the Rabbit came up to the door, and tried to open it; but, as the door opened inwards, and Dallas' elbow was rammed against it, that attempt proved a failure. Dallas heard it say to itself "Then I'll go round and get in at the window."

"_Like hell you will_!" thought Dallas, and, after waiting till he fancied he heard the Rabbit just under the window, when all of a sudden he spread out his hand, and made a snatch in the air. He didn't quite get hold of anything, but he heard a little YELP and a fall, and a CRASH of broken glass, from which he deduced that it was just possible it had fallen into a fence, or something of the sort.

Next came an angry voice—the Rabbit's—"Matt! Matt! Where in the blazes are you?" And then a voice he'd never heard before, "Sure then I'm here! Digging for apples, yer honour!"

"Digging for apples, indeed!" said the Rabbit angrily. "Get over here! Come and help me out of _this!_ " (Insert sounds of more broken glass.)

"Now Matt, pray tell, what's that in the window?"

"Sure, it's an arm, yer honour!" (He pronounced it "arrum.")

"An arm, you goose! Who ever saw one that size? Why, it fills the whole window!"

"Sure, it does, yer honour: but it's an arm for all that."

"Well, it's got no business there, at any rate: go and take it away!"

There was a long silence after this, and Dallas could only hear whispers now and then; such as "Sure, I don't like it, yer honour, at all, at all!" "Do as I tell you, you coward!", and at last he spread out his hand again, and made another snatch in the air. This time there were _two_ little YELPS, and more sounds of broken glass. "SHIT! I think I got splinter! How many fences do the have out there?!" thought Dallas. "What in the hell are they going to do? And as for pulling me out of this window, HA! Good luck_!_ But seriously I don't want to stay in here any longer…"

He waited for some time without hearing anything more: at last came a rumbling of little cart-wheels, and the sound of a good many voices all talking together he made out the words: "Where's the other ladder?—Why, I hadn't to bring but one. Bill's got the other—Oh Bill? Bill! Fetch it here, lad!—Here, put 'em up at this corner—Nope, tie 'em together first—they don't reach half high enough yet—Oh, that'll do well enough. Don't be particular—Here, Bill! Catch hold of this rope—Will the roof bear?—Mind that loose slate—Oh snap, it's coming down! Heads below!" (CRASH)—"Now, who did that?—It was Bill, I'll bet—Who's to go down the chimney?—Nay, _I_ sha'n't! _You_ do it!—_That_ I wo'n't, then!—Bill's got to go down—Here, Bill! The master says you've got to go down the chimney!"

"Oh! So Bill's coming down the chimney, huh?" said Dallas to himself. "Damn, they seem to put a lot of pressure on this Bill guy! I almost feel sorry for the guy. Almost. I wouldn't even be in Bill's place: this fireplace is so damn narrow, _maybe_ I can kick a little!"

He drew his foot as far down the chimney as he could, and waited till he heard a little animal (he had no idea as to what sort it was) scratching and scrambling about in the chimney close above him: then, saying to himself "_This_ is Bill," he gave one sharp kick, and waited to see what would happen next.

The first thing he heard was a general chorus of "There goes Bill!"

"_Dally 1__Bill 0" _thought Dallas with a triumphant smile.

Then the Rabbit's voice alone—"Catch him, you by the hedge!" then silence, and then another confusion of voices—"Hold up his head—Brandi now—Don't choke him—How was it, old fellow? What happened to you? Tell us all about it!" Last came a little feeble, squeaking voice ("That's Bill," thought Dallas), "Well, I hardly know—No more, thank ye; I'm better now—but I'm a deal too flustered to tell you—all I know is, something comes at me like a Jack-in-the-box, and up I goes like a sky-rocket!"

"So you did, old fellow!" said the others.

"We must burn the house down!" said the Rabbit's voice. And Dallas hollered out, as loud as he could, "Yeah…if you want to die, _that's _the quickest way right there!"

There was a dead silence instantly, and Dallas thought to himself "It ain't going down like that! I've been through WAY too much shit just to get burned alive. If they had any freaking sense, they'd just take the damn roof off." After a minute or two, they began moving about again, and Dallas heard the Rabbit say "A barrowful will do, to begin with."

"A barrowful of _what? What the hell does he mean?!_ " thought Dallas. But he had not long to doubt, for the next moment a shower of little pebbles came rattling in at the window, and some of them hit him in the face. "This ends now," he said to herself, and shouted out "Man you are really cruising for a bruising right now!", which produced another dead silence.

Dallas noticed, with some surprise, that the pebbles were all turning into little cakes as they lay on the floor, and a brilliant idea came into his head. "If I eat one of these cakes," she thought, "it's sure to make _some_ change in my size; and, I mean its not like I can get any bigger. If anything, I should get smaller right?"

So he swallowed one of the cakes (these were not made by Sodapop, mind you) and was delighted to find that he began shrinking directly. As soon as he was small enough to get through the door, he dashed of the house, and found quite a crowd of little animals and birds waiting outside. The poor little Lizard, Bill, was in the middle, being held up by two guinea-pigs, who were giving it something out of a bottle. They all made a rush at Dallas the moment he appeared; but he ran off as fast as he could, faster than Ponyboy Curtis, and soon found himself safe in a thick wood.

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><p>And that's the end of that chapter:P. Thanks for sticking around and remember to review, review, review! Or Dallas and I will find you. 0_0.<p> 


	9. Puppy Love or Advice From a Caterpillar

I'm Back! Life is officially great: I'm almost done with high school I've been getting college acceptance letters and I have a Yale Interview this week. YAY! Celebration chap for everyone. :D (P.S. This chapter will make you pee your Levi's in laughter. I hope you have as much fun writing it as I did writing it). As always I love you all, a thousand sunsets and thanks for your support. STAY GOLD.

Disclaimer: The lovely S.E. Hinton and Lewis Carol own these works not me. :{

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><p>Chapter 9<p>

**Puppy Love or Advice From A Caterpillar**

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><p>"FINALLY! Okay, first thing I need to do," said Dallas to himself, as he wandered about in the wood, "is to grow to my right size again; and then get the hell out of these woods. I think there was a garden or something around here."<p>

It sounded an excellent plan, no doubt, and very neatly and simply arranged: the only flaw was, that he had not the slightest idea how to set about it; and, while he was peering about anxiously among the trees, a little sharp bark just over him head made him look up in a great hurry.

An enormous puppy was looking down at him with large round eyes, and feebly stretching out one paw, trying to touch him. "Ohhh shit…" said Dallas, in a harsh whisper, and he tried to back away and sneak off; but stepping on a branch probably didn't help his case much. He was terribly freaked out thinking that it might be hungry, in which case it would be very likely to eat him up in spite of his attempts to depart.

Hardly knowing what he did, he picked up the snapped branch, and waved it in front of the giant puppy: whereupon the puppy bounded into the air off all its feet at once, with a "RUFF!" of delight, and lunged at the stick, and made believe to worry it: then Dallas dodged behind a great thistle, to keep himself from being mowed down; and, the moment he appeared on the other side, the puppy made yet another rush at the branch, and tumbled head over heels in its hurry to get hold of it: then Dallas, thinking "Whatever man. I've got nothing else to lose." And expecting every moment to be trampled under its feet, ran round the thistle again: then the puppy began a series of suicides at the stick, running a very little way forwards each time and a long way back, and barking hoarsely all the while, till, FINALLY, it sat down far off, panting, with its razzmatazz tongue hanging out of its mouth, and its great eyes half shut.

Of course, this posed as the most opportune time for Dallas to make his escape: so he set off at once, and ran till he was quite tired and out of breath, and till the puppy's bark sounded quite faint in the distance.

"Good glory! I think that was that mangy bastard I was yapping about earlier." said Dallas, as he collapsed against a buttercup to rest himself, and fanned himself with one of the leaves. "Had I been the right size I would wudda gave it a good sock in the—The right size? The right size! Damn it! I'd nearly forgotten that I'm still a freaking ant! Let me see—how _to solve this_? Well, in the past however long I've been here the solution has been food; but which one do I eat next?"

The great question certainly was "Which one?" Dallas gazed all round him at the flowers and the blades of grass, but he could not see anything that looked delicious or remotely edible or drinkable under the circumstances. There was a large mushroom growing near him, nearly the same height as himself; and, when he had checked under it, and left and right of it, and behind it, it suddenly occurred to him that he might as well look and see what was on the top of it.

He stretched himself up on tiptoe, and squinted over the edge of the mushroom, and his eyes immediately met those of a humongous blue caterpillar, that was chilling on the top, with its arms folded, quietly smoking a long pipe, and taking not the smallest notice of him or of anything else for that matter.

The Caterpillar and Dallas looked at each other for some time in silence: at last the Caterpillar took the cigar out of its mouth, and addressed him in a languid, sleepy voice.

"Who are _you_?" said the Caterpillar.

This was not the appropriate manner to address Dallas in considering all that he'd been through. And so the agitated greaser replied, "Who am _I_? My friends call me Dallas, but I'm pissed! I've been through nothing but hell today and for what? All this fella asked for was some chocolate cake, but NOOOO! I got dragged into a whole new—"

"What do you mean by that?" said the Caterpillar, sternly. "Explain yourself!"

"What the fuck do you mean, explain myself!" said Dallas, "I don't even think I'm myself anymore."

"I don't see," said the Caterpillar.

"Well I don't see how you'll ever understand," Dallas growled out, "I don't even understand the half of it,; and going from skyscraper to _fun size_ didn't help at all either."

"It didn't," said the Caterpillar.

"You say that now," said Dallas; "but when you have to go through metamof….metamom…metamorFUCK. When you turn into a chrysalis—you WILL someday, you know—and then after that into a butterfly or something, don't you think you'll feel weird?"

"Not a bit," said the Caterpillar.

"Alright wiseguy, you just keep that cigar up your ass," said Dallas: "all I know is, that after today, I can safely say that it's a jacked up life."

" You!" said the Caterpillar contemptuously. "Who are _you_?"

Which brought them back again to the beginning of the conversation. Dallas was beyond irritated at the Caterpillar's making such _very_ curt remarks, and he gathered himself up and said, in his no nonsense attitude (because _Mama Curtis didn't raise no fools!)_, "You ought to tell me who _you_ are, first."

"Why?" said the Caterpillar.

Here was another confusing question, the one that gave you a cosmic slap upside the head; and, as Dallas could not think of any good reason, and the Caterpillar seemed to be in a _very_ pissy state of mind, he looked up, politely flipped him the bird and harrumphed off in the other direction.

"Come back!" the Caterpillar called after him. "I've something important to say!"

This sounded promising, certainly. Dallas turned and came back again.

"Keep your temper," said the Caterpillar.

"**Bitch**— started Dallas, before remembering to swallow down his anger to the best of his ability.

Dallas thought he might as well wait, as he had nothing better to do, and perhaps after all it might tell him something that could aid him. For some minutes it puffed away without speaking; but at last it unfolded its arms, took the cigar out of its mouth again, and stated "So you think you're changed, do you?"

"That's what I've been trying to say the whole time," said Dallas. "I can't remember jack squat—and I keep changing freaking sizes!"

"Can't remember _what_ things?" said the Caterpillar.

"Dude I can't even basic things like: the ABC's, or Jailhouse Rock, or..anything!" Dallas replied in a troubled voice.

"Not even the most basic? Hmm…Repeat _'I am the Lord thy God,' _said the Caterpillar.

Dallas folded him hands, and began:—

"_I am the Lord thy God."_ _Wait a minute?! Isn't this the beginning of—_

"_Thou shalt have no other…._

_HOLY SHIT!_

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><p>Oh Dallas, will you ever learn? Haha, yes you all know what this means for the next chapter. Dally finally gets to learn the Four-I mean Ten Commandments. I'll try to update soon. Thanks for reading my people! :P<p> 


	10. Advice From a Caterpillar II

Oh my goodness its been such a long time, but I've finally been able to update this story. I'm sorry I haven't been able to update for like the past year, guys. I actually attend a service academy now (RAH! YUT! HOORAH!), and as you can imagine, life can be pretty demanding when you're trying to save the world #trackingcommiesformommy. But, I'll have some free time this upcoming holiday to make some updates starting with my favorite story thus far. Consider this a early Christmas present. Again, sorry for the long wait, and happy holidays!

DISCLAIMER: I didn't write these fantastic works of literature, that was all my girl S.E. Hinton and my boy Lewis Carol! XD

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><p>Chapter 10<p>

**Advice From a Caterpillar II**

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><p><em>Thou shalt not stab—err kill'<em>

_Thou shalt not snitch, wait!_

_Um…_

'That is not said right,' said the Caterpillar.

'Yeah, yeah, I know,' said Dallas, annoyed ; 'some of the words are a little butchered.'

'It is wrong from beginning to end,' said the Caterpillar decidedly, and there was silence for some minutes.

The Caterpillar was the first to speak.

'What size do you want to be?' it asked.

'Man, I don't care,' Dallas hastily replied; 'its just if I go from gigantor to pee-wee, ONE MORE TIME, I'm gonna lose it, you know?.'

'I _don't_ know,' said the Caterpillar.

Dallas gave him the most deadpanned expression: he had never been so conflicted in his life before, and he was about ready to pop a certain insect right in the kisser.

'Are you content now?' said the Caterpillar.

'Do I look content to you! Is this the face of a content person. No, it's not. So if you could just do us both a favor and stop fucking around and change me back to normal, that'd be **real** tuff,' said Dallas: 'being three-inches small really bites.'

'It is a very good height indeed!' said the Caterpillar angrily, rearing itself upright as it spoke (for it was precisely three inches high).

'You might like it, but I sure as hell don't!' exclaimed poor Dallas in a bitter tone. And he thought of himself, Why is everyone here so whiny and sensitive!'

'You'll get used to it in time,' said the Caterpillar; and it put the hookah into its mouth and began smoking again.

This time Dallas waited patiently, taking the time to collect himself, until it chose to speak again. In a minute or two the Caterpillar took the hookah out of its mouth and yawned once or twice, and shook itself. Then it got down off the mushroom, and crawled away in the grass, merely remarking as it went, 'One side will make you grow taller, and the other side will make you grow shorter.'

'What are you yapping about? One side of _what_? The other side of _what_?' thought Dallas to himself.

'Of the mushroom,' said the Caterpillar, just as if he had asked it aloud; and in another moment it was out of sight.

Dallas remained scrutinizing the mushroom for a minute, trying to make out which were the two sides of it; and as it was perfectly round, he found this a very difficult question. However, eventually he declared, 'Screw it," and stretched his arms round it as far as they would go, and broke off a part of the edge with each of his hands.

'Great, now how am I supposed to know which is which?' he said to herself, and chomped a little of the right-hand bit to try the effect: the next moment he felt a violent blow underneath her chin: He had just been sucker-punched, or rather sucker-kicked by his own foot!

He was surprised by this very sudden change, but he knew that there was no time to be lost, as he began to shrink again; so, fearing he could possible shrink into nonexistance, he set to work at once to eat some of the other bit. His chin was pressed so closely against his foot, that there was hardly room to open his trap; but mustering the last of his strength he did it at last, and managed to swallow a morsel of the lefthand bit.

'Finally, I'm free!' said Dallas in a tone of delight, which quickly plumetted to alarm, when he found that his shoulders were nowhere to be found: all he could see, when he looked down, was an immense length of neck, which seemed to rise like some great tree out of an ocean of green leaves that lay far below him.

'That green stuff down there had better be money!' said Dallas. 'And where are my shoulders at? And oh shit, my hands too! They took my fucking hands?' He was moving them about as she spoke, but no result seemed to follow, except a little shaking among the distant green leaves.

As there seemed to be no chance of getting his hands up to his head, he tried to reach his head down towards them, and was delighted to find that his neck would bend about easily in any direction, like a serpent. He had just succeeded in curving it down into the most wonderful zigzag pattern, and was going to dive in among the leaves, which to his dismay, was not money, but, nothing but the tops of the trees under which he had been wandering earlier, when a sharp hiss made him draw back all of a sudden: a giant pigeon had flown into his face, and was beating him violently with its wings.

'Serpent!' screeched the Pigeon.

'I ain't no snake, goddammit!' said Dallas indignantly. 'Now get out of my face!'

'Serpent, I say again!' repeated the Pigeon, but in a more subdued tone, and added with a kind of sob, 'I've tried every way, and nothing seems to suit them!'

'What are you talking about' said Dallas, still startled by the attack.

'I've tried the roots of trees, and I've tried banks, and I've tried hedges,' the Pigeon went on, without attending to him; 'but those serpents! There's no pleasing them!'

Dallas was straight up confused, to be blunt, but he had learned by now there was no use in saying anything more till the Pigeon had finished.

'As if it wasn't trouble enough hatching the eggs,' said the Pigeon; 'but I must be on the look-out for serpents night and day! Why, I haven't had a wink of sleep these three weeks!'

'Shh- you hear that? I'm playing the worlds saddest song, on the world's smallest violin,' said Dallas, who practically scoffed at the story.

'And that's not the half of it. Just as I'd taken the highest tree in the wood,' continued the Pigeon, raising its voice to a shriek, 'and just as I was thinking I should be free of them at last, they must needs come wriggling down from the sky! EWW, Serpent!'

'For the last time, I ain't no serpent!' said Dallas. 'Jesus Christ! I'm a—I'm a—'

'Well! _What_ are you?' said the Pigeon. 'I can see you're trying to invent something!'

'I'M A GREASER!,' said Dallas, rather doubtfully, as he remembered the number of changes he had gone through that day.

'A likely story indeed!' said the Pigeon in a tone of the deepest contempt. 'I've seen a good many greasers in my time, in fact, just today I saw one, and he certainly didn't have such a neck as that! No, no! You're a serpent; and there's no use denying it. I suppose you'll be telling me next that you never tasted an egg!'

'I _have_ tasted eggs, for your information,' said Dallas, 'and what do you mean you saw another greaser here earlier?'

'I don't believe it,' said the Pigeon ignoring him; 'but if they do, why then they're a kind of serpent, that's all I can say.'

This was such a new idea to Dallas, that he was quite silent for a minute or two, which gave the Pigeon the opportunity of adding, 'You're looking for the other greaser, I know _that_ well enough; and what does it matter to me whether you know him or not?'

'It matters a lot to _me_,' said Dallas hastily; 'cause it lets me know that I not the only one running around here like a dingus.'

'Well, be off, then!' said the Pigeon in a sulky tone, before flying away.

'Wait! What did he look like, where did he go? Answer me you rat with wings!" But the pigeon had settled down again into its nest.

"Fine, then. I'll just find him myself. Whoever it is." And so this journey towards the mystery greaser began.

Dallas crouched down among the trees as well as he could, for his neck kept getting entangled among the branches, and every now and then he had to stop and untwist it. After a while he remembered that he still held the pieces of mushroom in his hands, and he set to work very carefully, biting and chomping first at one and then at the other, and growing sometimes taller and sometimes shorter, until he had succeeded in bringing himself down to his normal height.

_About damn time, _too, he thought. It was so long since he had been anything near the right size, that it felt quite strange at first; but he got used to it in a few minutes, and began talking to himself, as usual. Well half of my plan is over. I'm actually back to normal! Now I just have the figure out which one of the guys is stuck in the hell hole too. And then I can get out of here, once and for all! I should probably start at that freaking garden over there—but how to get over there?' As he said this, he came suddenly upon an open place, with a little house in it about four feet high. 'Whoever lives there,' thought Dallas, 'would probably freak the hell out if they saw a guy my size at their doorstep: Ha! They'd be shitting kittens if they saw me!' So he began nibbling at the righthand bit again, just a bit though, and did not venture to go near the house till he had brought himself down to nine inches high.

* * *

><p>Ooh, who could that other greaser be? I'll let you guys decide in the reviewcomments section. Deuces!


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